85
Has scorn'd my power and mee;
Howe canst thou thenne for such a manne
Intreate my clemencye?"

"My nobile leige! the trulie brave
Wylle val'rous actions prize, 90
Respect a brave and nobile mynde,
Altho' ynne enemies."

"CANYNGE, awaie! By Godde ynne Heav'n
Thatt dydd mee beinge gyve,
I wylle nott taste a bitt of breade 95
Whilst thys Syr CHARLES dothe lyve."

"By MARIE, and alle Seinctes ynne Heav'n,
Thys sunne shall be hys laste."
Thenne CANYNGE dropt a brinie teare,
And from the presence paste. 100

Wyth herte brymm-fulle of gnawynge grief,
Hee to Syr CHARLES dydd goe,
And satt hymm downe uponne a stoole,
And teares beganne to flowe.

"Wee all must die," quod brave Syr CHARLES; 105
"Whatte bootes ytte howe or whenne;
Dethe ys the sure, the certaine fate
Of all wee mortall menne.

"Saye why, my friend, thie honest soul
Runns overr att thyne eye; 110
Is ytte for my most welcome doome
Thatt thou dost child-lyke crye?"

Quod godlie CANYNGE, "I doe weepe,
Thatt thou so soone must dye,
And leave thy sonnes and helpless wyfe; 115
'Tys thys thatt wettes myne eye."

"Thenne drie the tears thatt out thyne eye
From godlie fountaines sprynge;
Dethe I despise, and alle the power
Of EDWARDE, traytor kynge. 120

"Whan throgh the tyrant's welcom means
I shall resigne my lyfe,
The Godde I serve wylle soone provyde
For bothe mye sonnes and wyfe.

"Before I sawe the lyghtsome sunne, 125
Thys was appointed mee;
Shall mortal manne repyne or grudge
Whatt Godde ordeynes to bee?

"Howe oft ynne battaile have I stoode,
Whan thousands dy'd arounde; 130
Whan smokynge streemes of crimson bloode
Imbrew'd the fatten'd grounde:

"How dydd I knowe thatt ev'ry darte,
Thatt cutte the airie waie,
Myghte nott fynde passage toe my harte, 135
And close myne eyes for aie?

"And shall I nowe, forr feere of dethe,
Looke wanne and bee dysmayde?
Ne! fromm my herte flie child